Yonder Lies the Dead
by Eumelia
Summary: Revamped. Redone. Repowered. 07.01.09 "My death was not swift, nor kind. It was drawn out, it was brutal. He killed Mokuba first... and then me. And now, I've been waiting. And waiting. And finally you're here. God, you guys. What took you so long?"


Yonder Lies the Dead

Version 2.0

Warnings: Violence. Language. Character Death. Mild homosexuality. Mild heterosexuality. Original Characters.

**Prologue**:

_{FALL.}_

A single golden leaf lay in the hair of Kaiba Seto, setting off the summer-highlighted hair in a blaze of red, gold and grey-brown. He didn't notice it, and its dying color gave his face an added boost of unearthly glow. A dark blue ski jacket was wrapped tightly about his lean figure leaving his face bared to the brisk wind, turning his cheeks a muted red. The wind-chapped blush, in turn, set off perhaps what was his most memorable features: his deep blue eyes.

While being shorter than the six-foot-two teen, his 5-year-younger brother, Mokuba, eyed the leaf in his brother's hair and snickered like the little fox he was. His grey-black hair was still tousled and unbound, even to his elder brother's wish that he'd comb it. His own grey eyes were still large with curiosity, and his long sleeved black-and-grey striped sweater covered a dark green t-shirt. Seto always wondered how the smaller Kaiba kept warm. Youth those days.

Fingering the collar of his lighter blue turtleneck, Seto made sure he stuck close in the populated park. It was a lovely autumn day, and the diehard joggers and bikers were out in force at that time of the afternoon. Right after work, and just before dinner. He didn't want his brother's heels clipped by some whacko on a two-wheeled terror who was too busy to look up from his iPod. In fact, one was racing at them right at that moment. He patiently grasped a handful of the back of Mokuba's shirt, and picked him up out of the way. Much to the younger's humiliation. "Jeez, Seto… Just tell me next time." He said, trying to fix his shirt after his brother set him down. Seto was busily "flipping the bird" at the biker, who was paying them no heed. Mokuba was at that stage anyways. The one where he wanted to look good for the ladies.

"Seto? Where did Bakura and the other's say they'd meet us, again?"

Seto cocked an eyebrow, for a while, since the end of their Egyptian adventure and the return of the old theif, Mokuba and the rebel had somehow become fast of friends. Perhaps it was because they'd both had difficulty keeping their hands out of other's pockets. At least with Mokuba, his was out of curiousity. With Bakura, it was just plain thievery. But they'd become partners on the arcade circuit, since Duel Monster's tournaments were becoming few and far between once the esteemed Yugi Muto, and his fiery rival Kaiba Seto had publically announced their retirement from the tournaments. Yugi was enshrined in the Hall of Fame, and Kaiba found his niche within as well. Both needed, in their growing age, to turn their attention to other pursuits, and with less and less "evil" cropping up to challenge the heroes, they had the time.

"The jungle gym Mokuba, because everybody knows where the jungle gym is."

The elder nodded his head sagely, crossing his arms over his lengthy torso, tucking his gloveless hands under his elbows to keep them warm in the blustery wind flinging crisp leaves over the brothers. Mokuba let out a joyous yelp and ran headfirst into a large pile of freshly raked leaves, coming up with handfuls and throwing them into the wind. Seto shook his head with mock annoyance and continued on down the tree-lined path. The longer-haired boy caught up soon enough, holding a few handfuls of leaves.

"Mokuba!"

It was Anzu. Her bright blue eyes sparkling with joy as she ran out onto the path and waved them down, Mokuba, with his own happy cry, barreled straight into her arms. She lifted the fourteen-year-old off the ground, poking fun at him by saying that he was getting too fat for her to do so. He poked back saying that she needed the exercise. Seto had paused by the two by now, and was greeted warmly by the girl with cropped-hair.

"Hello, Seto."

Her voice was kind, and of the women Yugi held close as his friends, Mazaki Anzu was perhaps Seto's favorite. She smiled at him, but as was within his means of socialization, the most he gave was a sharp nod. By now she knew better, Seto was too old to recover from the lack of contact, he was a withdrawn young man, and while they'd broken him from most of his egomania, there was no way he could fully become someone like Mokuba. , He'd be civil but he still did not take to Anzu and the others as well as Mokuba did, but he'd been younger, and his brother's hard work had saved him from the fate Seto had consigned himself too. With said teenager on her back, she turned back towards the playground and wobbled him over to where, upon the jungle gym, Bakura and Malik were playing 'King of the Hill', only in this case it was a jungle gym, not a hill. Seto followed, long legs forcing Anzu to moved three steps to his two.

"Kaiba!"

Bakura cried out, clearly pleased that the brunette had come, shoving Malik off the dome for the umpteenth time; the silver haired thief waved cheerily, as Malik came up behind him and bit his ear. With a loud explicative he slammed his elbow back into the other's cheek. If it hurt, Malik was unfazed; he only grinned carnivorously in the direction of the approaching trio: mainly at Seto, who 'tch'ed and shook his head. Typical Bakura. Typical Malik. Sitting a ways away, were Yuugi, Jou and Honda enjoying a quick game of 'Beggar My Neighbor' in which Yuugi, true enough, was winning.

Mokuba detangled himself from Anzu to greet the lighter half of Bakura, the now-bespectacled Ryou. During the last half of school, Ryou had overworked his eyes and by the optometrist's orders he received corrective glasses and the express demands to take breaks every now and then. But with his goal being Oxford, the bookworm was hard-pressed to finish his resume and his portfolio to send them. The doe-eyed boy unfolded his hands and stood up, fixing the cashmere scarf about his neck. He embraced the younger Kaiba, exclaiming in a soft tone that it was cold and that Mokuba should have another layer of clothes on.

"Trust Ryou to be the responsible one."

Anzu said, her hands clasped behind her back. Perhaps a month or so prior, they'd all graduated. School life was over, and their ages varied between seventeen to nineteen, Mokuba and the exceedingly ancient Egyptian crew excluded. Most of them had their futures planned out, but not everyone. Anzu was unable to scrounge up the money to get to New York, her parents did not agree that her dream of becoming a dancer was a worthwhile pursuit. So to one-up them, she enlisted in the police force. She was, at that moment, dressed in runner sweats. It was hard work, but she wanted to be fit for the testing. There was a deeper reason, though, than her just wanting to join the police force. She wanted to be on the case; a case that had been going on for several years before her lifetime. A serial murdering, and the reason why she'd picked that uncaught killer—was because a cousin of hers had been a victim, years before her birth, but the memories haunted her family. She wanted it all to end with her generation. Speaking of which, the tall young man had moved along the group, nodding greetings to the trio finishing their card game. Jou grinned wildly and waved, upsetting his own cards.

Ryou was coddling Mokuba, who seemed to be half-enjoying every minute of attention he was receiving. Seto on the other hand was not receiving the alone time he wanted; Malik and Bakura had moved to either side of him to try and coax him into a game of 'King of the Jungle Gym'. He was trying to decline them properly. It took Mariku and Isis to drag the two away from the unhappy-looking brunette. Anzu brandished a disposable camera.

"I suppose now, you're wondering what I called you all here for. Since… well, you know, we won't have many more opportunities together—seeing as we're all going separate routes… I want to commemorate with a picture. We all get copies."

"Sappy, Anzu. Is this like your speeches?" Malik wormed his way out from Isis' hold, and approached her jauntily. "We all take a picture and look at it when we feel down?"

"No," She shook her head, the brown bob flying lightly about her chin. "We hold onto a picture to remind ourselves, when we're old and decrepit that we were once so damn good-looking." She replied to him, and snapped a picture right in his eyes, temporarily bliniding him with the flash. "No, Malik. It's so we remember who we're leaving. At least for me, it's important."

Their childhood had gone by so quickly. From schoolwork to Duel Monsters to fighting to save the world (which was mostly done by Yami and Yuugi!), they had lost most of their childhood. Anzu wanted to preserve the last bit of it. She held up the camera again.

"On the jungle gym." She ordered finitely, and she left little room for protest or disagreement.

They all seemed to listen, piling onto the metal structure with no qualms about it. Anzu asked a woman from the park's main drag to stop and help her out, for she had to be in the photo too. When the jogger finished snapping a few photos, she took the camera back and put it in her pocket, leaving her hands within as she regarded the group. Some had broken away from the closeness, some remained relaxed. Seto was moving from the jungle gym, to sit on one of the rocking riders and balance precariously upon it. Malik, who had never been part of their group, was heading back towards his own lonely spot. Bakura, had been the first to go. It seemed to say a lot about their personalities; the way some stayed and some went. "Good luck, then, everyone. In case I don't get a chance to say it again." Her mouth lifted into a smile, though her heart ached at the sight of it all.

"I got in." Ryou announced softly. He was the first of many to reveal his plans: "Oxford sent me the letter, earlier this week, and I'll be leaving in a few weeks. I have to get my living quarters and be ready for term to start… And, Bakura—"

"I'm going too." The theif said, his back still to everyone. But mostly to Mokuba. Most definitely to Seto. "I can't stand Japan much longer, I need to get out and see the world. You know me, I'm nomadic." Yami, didn't seem too choked up about it all. "I'll be heading to Egypt with the Ishtar's. I'm prime candidate for their historical pursuits. I'm going to be their expert on their digs."

"I'm studying to become a teacher," Yugi replied. That stunned them all. "Well, I'm going to be a part-time contact for them… Egypt's really fascinating. But I want to help kids, teach them. Kindergarten mostly." He'd grown some, slimmed down from the child-like entitiy he'd been to a more mature youth, more like Yami than most would care to admit. "Malik's going into guarding. Mariku's into the conservation and Isis is the curator still." He added, speaking for the naturally-quiet Ishtar family.

"Mai's going into law enforcement with me." Anzu added. "Honda and I," That was Jou, speaking up finally as he rubbed the side of his nose. That Osaka accent drawled past his lips, and he stuck his hands in his pockets boredly. Trying to dissuade anyone from thinking he was upset about their split. After all, Jou found the most solace in a group, and held few people as close as he held Anzu, Yugi and Honda. "We're going to be corrections officers. We figure we ought to use what we know from the street to clean up the prisons."

"I'm going to be a racer in my free time." Honda spoke up, that was not surprising. He'd always been a mechanical fanatic. Most likely he'd chosen motorcycles as his mode of transportation and enjoyment. He tugged his coat tighter about his chest and turned to see who was next, uncomfortable with the silence starting to overtake them once it began to sink in how far they were going from each other.

"Seto's going to put me on as vice-president of Kaiba Corporation," Mokuba was next, it seemed, his hands fitting over his knees as he sat on the low rung of the jungle gym. "Whem I'm old enough that is. Right Seto?"

"Otogi combined his company with me. He's on as my co-preseident now." Was Seto's dismissive reply, "But yes, Mokuba, you are right. And only if you want it when that time comes." His look was severe, he did not condone forcing his brother into any sort of life like the one he'd been forced to lead. "I'm going to relax my schedule, now that Otogi is on board. I have confidence in his business management skills."

"What are you going to do with all that free time, then? Eh, Kaiba?" Jou asked, leaning forwards to see around Honda, to look at the other incredulously. Seto seemed to grow a bit… uncomfortable. He scuffed his foot and crossed his arms across his chest, setting his chin as if daring them all to say something about what he voiced next: "I'm becoming a foster parent." He said softly, "I'm going into Child Protective Services and advocating on their behalf." It was a touchy subject, clearly, but one that hit home with him. And the others understood why, as well.

"You know what we should do…?" It was once again Anzu. "We ought to promise each other, if ever we need them… we should all try to come back. I know it'll be hard… now that we're in the "real world". But at least, if we can, we should try. Especially if it's something serious. Even if we end up setting a reunion date, to catch up with everyone."

She caught Yuugi's eye at this and he nodded, followed by Jou and Honda, Mokuba, Ryou, Mariku, Isis and all the rest. Even Seto agreed. Her eyes finally brightened, then closed as she murmured a few words of thanks; embracing each of her friends in turn; Seto was the only one to not return the expression, everyone knew he wouldn't.

They all remained in the tight circle for a few moments longer, drawing off each others presence, feeling the comfort and familiarity of each other, and remembering all they'd been through… which was a lot. Seto was the one to break away first, the closeness once more getting to the tall young man, he broke and wheeled away, to stalk onto the golden-red path, and shove his chilled hands into his pockets. Blue eyes closed as he heard the crunching of the others separating sheepishly, knowing it was his entire fault. Mokuba's voice lilted over to his brother's ears as he became engrossed in a battle of wits with Jou, of course, everyone knew how that would end up.

Seto tilted his head back, fingers pawing and pulling the neck of his shirt away, allowing the soft breeze to cool down his own burning neck, it was getting rather warm under the turtleneck. His eyes opened again to see the reddened leaves above him, the trees still full of the beautiful colors. A rare smile graced his lips, his whole body relaxed as the breeze rose to shake the leaves free of their hold on the branches and they fluttered down like over-sized confetti. One landed, again in Seto's hair, and this time he noticed it, brushing it off; it stubbornly clung to his hand. Sighing, he plucked it off and bent over to set it on the ground, seeing as it disliked the long fall.

"We are going to be here, aren't we, Seto?"

He turned, looking down in thought at Mokuba. "Of course we are," He replied lowly. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"Seto…"

Mokuba sounded deeply worried, his grey-blue eyes sought out Seto's profile; Seto in turn was still suffering the pangs of foreshadow, but he broke away from the chilling sights to help his shivering little brother, Mokuba was lifted up onto Seto's hip, where he curled and stared down the now innocent path. Seto's long fingers absently tangled in Mokuba's hair.

"What is it?"

He asked, stroking bangs from the younger's face, only Seto's sibling would ever have the honor of the hidden side of the brunette, Mokuba sighed, being coddled had snapped him out of whatever stupor the biker's near-miss had inflicted upon he and his brother. He bit Seto's finger and the brunette dropped him with a cry, pulling his wounded finger away. The steely haired boy crossed his arms and glowered up at his brother, who glared right back.

"Can we go home, Seto? Anzu says she'll mail us the prints of the pictures. I want to pick up a frame for ours."

A plea, Mokuba could no longer stand the awkward silence that had trapped the group. Unless you counted the random outbursts from Bakura and Malik, who had quit their game and were now attacking random acorns on the ground, screaming something about 'Squirrel Grenades'… Seto agreed immediately, waving a quick goodbye to the rest of the group. Mokuba cheerily gave a quick hug to most everyone they were leaving, a really good one to Ryou and Anzu, before he headed off with his brother.

The cries of Bakura and Malik now dying off in the distance, Mokuba became intent on kicking up flurries of leaves so that the obscured his brother's vision as much as possible, Seto bore this calmly, blowing stray leaves away from his face. A bike bell dinged in the distance and the crunching of leaves reached the brothers' ears. They turned, and Seto gave Mokuba a shove to split them apart as a hellbent delivery boy on a bike went tearing between them as fast as his long legs could pump. "Hey!" Mokuba called after the retreating bike, "Watch it, asshole

"Hey!" Seto snapped at him, glowering at Mokuba after the uncouth use of his language. "Don't you swear. I don't care if Bakura does, don't you start."

"Some dad you'd turn out to be." Mokuba said sullenly, and then looked up at the expression on his brother's face. Seto looked a bit down then, perhaps because he'd essentially raised Mokuba as a father would have, more so than a brother. He hadn't a choice. Business, school and "parenthood". God, he was glad he'd never dated. Perhaps even that he was still a virgin, because Seto sure as hell wouldn't have been able to handle being a teenaged father. But he was. He had been… no, he still was. Mokuba, upon Seto's turning eighteen, had been legally released into his custody. All the years of bribing officials to stay silent was finally over. Seto was legal to have his brother at his side, instead of seeing him taken away to a foster home.

Mokuba was getting antsy with the silence. In that lull of moodiness, Seto was reaching into his pocket to draw out a pack of cigarette's and tap one out over his knuckles. Good opportunity.

"Seto, I thought you said you'd be quitting."

He attempted and lifted his hand to take a hold of his brother's wrist; this time he got the reaction he wanted. Seto looked down, one stick half in his mouth and the pack vanishing into his pocket, the lighter midway through the exchange, he looked a bit guilty.

"It's harder than it looks, Mokuba. I am trying though, I cut back to two."

"Packs or cigarettes?"

Seto was silent.

He had, by then, taken a blue lighter out of his coat pocket and was flicking the ridged dial with his thumb, without the conviction to actually bring the flame to life. Mokuba moved his gaze away, linking his hands behind his head.

"Whatever. I'm not going to haggle you, Seto. Those things are going to be the death of you someday."

Seto ran his thumb over the ridged dial, flicking the flame to life; dutifully, he touched it to the end of the cigarette, taking a deep drag to fill his lungs with cool menthol-like smoke. He pocketed the lighter, and hurried after the back of his rapidly retreating brother. The two quickly reached the sidewalk, from where they headed into uptown Domino City, where the people with similar financial standings to them lived. Several blocks away rested the Kaiba Mansion, the brother's point of destination.

"Seto, when we get home can we call out for pizza?"

Mokuba's eyes shone brightly as he asked this of his brother, hands clasped eagerly. Seto removed the cigarette from his lips and exhaled a stream of near-white smoke.

"Why not?"

Mokuba shrieked and began to run towards home, while Seto took a more leisurely walk up the street with high white-stone fences, built to keep people out; or maybe people in… The brunette had begun smoking in school, after Bakura and Malik had conned him into it, after one drag and a coughing spree he had taken another breath, coughed lighter than the first time… and by the third, he was inhaling like a pro. After that, he'd kept on going, the nicotine addiction had grown… but Seto kept on exercising, jogging, cardiovascular workouts, swims, so that Mokuba wouldn't rip the despised drug out of his hands and burn it all.

The gate was still open when Seto walked through it, and he reminded himself to chide Mokuba for leaving it open, even for such a short time was… Oh, now he was thinking like the neighbors. He snorted, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth again. This time, Seto looked at the thing, half gone, the end burning merrily in the cold autumn air…

Seto ditched it over his shoulder. He shut the gates manually, and locked them the same way, before continuing to the front door, twisting the silver doorknob and pushing the door open. He planted the toes of one shoe firmly against the back of the other and slipped out of it, doing the same with his sock-clad foot to the other. He left his shoes in the middle of the floor and headed out into the main hall, spotting Mokuba making his way across the landing at the top of the grand stair case.

"Slowpoke!"

He called as he ran by, sock feet making muffled noises against the dark red carpeting; on his way to the living room. Seto shrugged out of his coat, hanging it on the rack just to his left. He stretched languidly, moving forwards and up the stairs to follow the little fox, spotting him moving around the corner at the end of the hallway. Seto continued on his way, meandering along until he reached the living room, where Mokuba was nursing a can of soda in one hand and the phone in the other. Calling for his pizza, of course.

"Seto, you have a leaf in your hair."

Mokuba paused from his conversation long enough to point this out to Seto, who brought a hand up to absently tangle his hair around his fingers and comb another leaf out of it and onto the floor. He'd ignore it for now and pick it up later, Mokuba had gotten himself tangled in the cords of his game system and his brother hurried over to free the tousle-haired teen. After several loop-de-loops and harsh tugs, the fox was free and he trailed a controller back over to his perch on the right side of the couch. Seto began to exit the room, intent on seeing if he had mail, both digital and physical. Mokuba opened his mouth and blurted:

"Do you ever think we're going to see them again?"

Seto paused, one hand on the doorframe, he looked back over his shoulder at his grey-haired sibling… he worried his lip while thinking of the right way to phrase his thoughts. Mokuba continued to stare at the game screen, thumbs pounding away at the buttons. He'd rather see the pixels than the expression on his brother's face.

"Be honest with me, Seto. I can handle it."

"No, Mokuba. I don't think we'll ever see them again."

"Why not?"

"That's just the way it feels."

"A gut feeling?"

"… Yes. A dark, worrisome feeling."

"Seto. I feel it too. Is it because of all we've gone through? Or our ties to Ancient Egypt?"

"Say what you want. I still don't believe in that crap Yuugi and his 'Other Self' spout."

"Why not? You've got so much proof!"

"You want the truth?"

"I told you I did."

"It's because I don't want to."

"What?"

Mokuba left his character wide open for attack and was destroyed in a colorful array of light and screams; he didn't care, with the 'Game Over' sign flashing red and yellow behind him, he had dropped the controller to turn and face Seto over the back of the couch. He didn't really think Seto would be that honest. It had to be that horrible feeling deep inside them… As if they were saying last rites for themselves.

"I don't want to admit I believe Mokuba… Because if I do, all I am used to will be destroyed. Too many new things, and obsolete old ones. Why do you think I always lose to Yami! It's because I'm obsolete! I'm living in a world of mechanics and schematics, of wires and gears and holograms. I refuse to believe because I'll have to change, and change after all these years of hard work? It'll destroy me."

"… I understand, Seto. And you know something?"

"Hn."

"I'll stick with you. I'll be your go between. I'll take Yami and Yuugi's magic and turn it into something tangible for you… because I believe in both. They manipulate energy, forming it the way they need and that's how they work. Magic. But, I've seen another form a magic, one in you and your hands. The way you create things, using logic and careful planning, with those schematics and wires! You make magic too. Yami magic is in essence. You, Seto, make it real for all. So that they all can have a taste of the unknown. And… I ran out of important things to say…"

Seto closed his eyes, and broke out into one of his rare smiles, reserved only for Mokuba. Said brother laughed nonchalantly and faced back to his game, face flushed from the brilliance of Seto's brilliance, Mokuba had struck a nerve deep inside him. And he was positively glowing from the praise he'd received. Mokuba punched the 'Reset' button on the game console, and randomly he asked:

"Don't you wish life had a 'Reset' button, sometimes?"

It was Seto's turn to face away from his brother, not as proud now, but back towards his normal attitude. The doorbell rang downstairs, and Seto headed off to get it. A 'Reset' button… It could come in handy… But it would be rather addictive too… When things weren't going your way you just hit the button and try again a different way… But then, wouldn't you grow accustomed to always having as many chances as you needed? Wouldn't that 'Reset' button control your life, filled with jumps back in time to fix something? You'd never know what would have happened if you didn't have it. And what if, one time you pressed it, intent on fixing something, it instead made it worse than before?

All this traveled through Seto's mind in a spastic dance of jumbled words and half-philosophical bullshit. He opened the door and greeted the pizza man in a low tone. "So, how much do I owe you?"

"For… two pizza? Let me check," The pizza boy rummaeged through his pocket, and produced the receipt. "Twenty seventy." He uttered, and held the slip out to Seto to take. "Hey! You're that guy! I remember you… um, Kaiba! Kaiba Seto, from the tournaments. My kids thought you were all the best. They were sad when you said you were retiring, you and that… Yugi kid." The man was perhaps in his fourties, with black-and-peppered hair and dark grey eyes. "Hey, you think I can have your autograph? I know it's a little improtu and you probably just want the pizza, but—it'd mean the world to my boys."

"… I don't have a pen on me."

"So, you'll do it?!"

"Sure." Seto said lowly, a bit uncomfortable with the attention. From crowds, it was one thing, from an enthusiastic father, it was another. He looked back and forth about the doorway for a pen of sorts, and when he couldn't find one, he stepped aside with a sigh. "Come in, I'll grab a pen from my office. Here, I'll take those." He held his hands out for the flat boxes, and the delievery man took a step back, moving them away from Seto's hands. A twitch appeared in Seto's brow; that was not right… something—

"Whoa, lad! They're hot." Was the reasoning. "I got 'em, I got 'em. You just head to the office, and I'll…"

"You can bring them right up here!" Mokuba's voice joined the duo, as he leaned over the second-floor banister and greeted the pizza man exuberantly. "Seto, you go get your pen, and I'll pay him. I wanted the pizza, so I'm paying, got it?" He beckoned to the pizza man, who looked at Seto for permission. With a sigh that marked his steadily growing annoyance, Seto waved the man on, and watched him mount the stairs as Mokuba jammered on at him: "What's your name? How old are you? What are your kids' names?" "Isamu Daisuke, I stopped counting at forty and I have three, soon to be four."

Seto went to the office, like he'd said, and reached across his desk, pulling the drawer open to pick out a good pen.

"You know, they were right—" Seto sat up so fast he cracked his knee against his solid wood desk, whipping around to see the curious face of the pizza man, he hissed out a 'what are you doing' before the pizza man—Daisuke—went on. "—you do have really, really pretty eyes. Were your parents foreign? I've never seen a Japanese citizen with eyes like that. Blue… against auburn hair."

That was beyond creepy. Seto turned fully and leaned against the desk, watching the pizza man with a drawn expression. "Who was right?" He asked, though in the pit of his stomach he knew he didn't' want to know the answer.

"Hmm? Oh, my kids. They're foreigner crazy." He laughed and waved a hand at Seto, "Hey, did you get that pen yet? I don't want to stick around too long, you know."

"What do you want me to sign?" Seto asked brusquely, stepping away from his desk with the pen at the ready. He just wanted to sign whatever the hell was wanted, and get the man **out** of his house. He got within two feet. Then Daisuke seemed to think: "This?" He pulled the hat off his head and held it out to Seto. The young CEO snatched it from his fingertips and scribbled his name with a practiced nonchalance and crossed underneath with a sharp slash of his pen. "Now, will you go set the box down, so I can pay you and you can leave?" He half ordered, and watched as the pizza man turned on his heel with feigned offense. "Well, fine fine."

"Seto!" Mokuba came bounding down the hall, but not with his usual jubilant expression, he crowded past the pizza man's legs and wrapped himself about Seto's own long pair. "The power's going out!" He wailed; still young, and still afraid of the dark. Seto reached down to put his fingers in Mokuba's hair, glowering at the man for intruding on such a private moment. "The generator will kick in, don't you worry." He murmured softly to his trembling brother, and felt Mokuba's dark head shake against his knees.

"The generator kicked on—" He said, "—and then it got swallowed up."

"In this wind, I wouldn't doubt it." Daisuke added in his own two cents, setting the pizza box down on the short table by the doorway, looking around the hall as lights began to flicker. A loud thud, muffled by the walls made Mokuba jump.

"It's just the generator." Seto replied, "It's trying to kick on." And then the lights flipped back on, and the house hummed with borrowed time. "Told you."

With that said, Seto found he did not have an answer for the ululating howl that petered out from the hallways right afterwards. "…" Speechless, he turned around to the large floor-to-ceiling walls behind his desk, catching the whipping passing of a long, lizard-like tail. "What's… going on."

"I own something of yours."

Seto looked back around, hunched slightly over Mokuba with the vicious glare of a mother bear protecting her cub. Before he could say anything else, Daisuke held up the brim of his hat and wiggled it. "I own your signature. You gave it into my possession of your own free will."

"What the hell are you saying, you creep?"

"Isamu Daisuke." The pizza man replied, putting the hat gingerly atop his head. "Is not my name." At Seto's knees, Mokuba let out a scared moan and turned to face the man while Seto backed towards his desk with his brother. "Get out of my house." He said stiffly, attempting to get around the long, solid fixture without falling over. Because Mokuba sure as hell wasn't letting go anytime soon. His fingers fumbled at his desk drawer, while the pizza man looked on with eyes that had suddenly gone black and cold. "Kuro. Overused, overstated, but that's what they call me."

"They."

"They. The police. The detectives. The homicide division. The caseworkers. The fearful sheep. The victims."

"Wh—"

"Kuro." Repeated the man, loosening the top of his ugly red polo shirt. "The case was first opened in 1987, in Rie Park. The victim was a young German tourist, unnamed, unclaimed. Chestnut hair. Blue eyes. The second case was in 1994, in a Narita Airport bathroom; Mazaki Nami, a young mixed-heritage graduate school senior. Tokyo U. Sienna hair. Blue eyes."

"Mazaki--!" Seto knew that last name, he could recall the face of the girl who bore it well.

"Mazaki Anzu's cousin. She got in my way." The man looked at his nails, completely calm as he recounted the tale. "I wanted the little Anzu, and that cousin of hers sought me out herself. Bought Miss Anzu some time. Third case, 1997, a young botany major from America, in the Japanese gardens he was studying. Chocolate hair, blue eyes. Do I paint a picture for you, yet, Setomypet?"

Seto had gone pale, his hand frozen at the desk drawer, his other hand cradling Mokuba's head as the boy seemed to bristle with fear and anger as well. "Yeah. You kill people with certain features. Brown hair, blue eyes." He repeated, in a dreary sort of shock. "And I just let you in my house." He gave the drawer a tug, and turned his head for one moment to root for the loaded handgun he knew was in there. His hand closed around it, and he dragged it out with a ferocious clangor, squeezing Mokuba tight as he swung his hand around, eyes following where his hand would be going. All in slow motion—his world slowed like one of those movies. As he could see his arm moving in an arc, the gun swiveling to face the pizza man. He saw the calm, collected way he had already reached under the pizza in the box and drawn out a slightly hot, greasy blade, the way the loathed serial killer: Isamu "Kuro" Daisuke was already getting low under Seto's gun's sight, the knife coming up besides his cheek, ready to lash out.

Seto's gun, by sheer luck and adrenaline, came around first. He leveled it, and thumbed off the safety, shooting wildly at the man lunging at he and his brother. And he heard the bullet strike the knife, in a one-in-a-million shot, and then the slash came, and he felt it stroke through his upper arm like a lover would through his heart, forcing him to jerk and release the gun, stepping back the rest of the way as the knife passed dangerously close to his throat and Seto threw himself and Mokuba back from the killer and onto the floor. "Mokuba! Go!" He ordered frantically, shoving his brother through the legs of the killer as he pulled back for a second strike. Mokuba, bless his gall, elbowed the killer, directly in the knee. Even the maniac couldn't anticipate such a blow, and his knee buckled, forcing him down on them. In that moment, Seto scrambled, lunging past his desk for the gun, feeling the bite of the blade to the back of his calf. Just a shallow cut, lucky for him, and he ran out of his office room and caught up to Mokuba fast, grabbing him about the waist with his free, unhurt arm, lifting him to his side as he ran.

Horror movies were telltale, and Seto didn't waste anytime hiding. He went for the phone downstairs, after hopping down the flight as his leg stung. He dialed for the police, and heard the chime of her voice in his ear. "Anzu! Anzu! You're working late?" He asked bemused, and heard Mokuba's low cry besides him as the crash of his obscenely heavy desk as it was flung aside upstairs revealed that the killer must have been getting up. "Get someone over here, Anzu. The guy you're looking for—is trying to kill me next. It's Seto. It's me." He breathed, the rush catching up to him even as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, every instinct telling him to run, to hide, to fight back. He turned to the stairs, Mokuba waiting in agitation nearby. At the top, their dark haired pursuer was waiting, patiently, for him to finish the phone call. "He's not going to let us out, Anzu. And I don't know… how long I'll last. If you can't get here for me… at least get here for Mokuba."

"Seto! They're on their way," He could hear Anzu saying, as he slowly pulled the phone away from his ear. The storm outside the door cracked, and the walls shuddered with the wind. "Just hold on…" She begged him, calmly, as he put the phone back in the cradle on the wall.

"Seto, you're not going to die!" Mokuba demanded of him, hitting his leg with a fist. It made Seto wince, since his leg already ached with the dull throb of the knife that had sliced shallowly into his calf. "Mokuba, just run. Now!" He gave his brother a shove, and fired off another few rounds at the man on top of the landing, who proved a maddening foe, as he ducked down just prior to Seto's finger convulsing once upon the trigger, and rolled down the staircase. Seto took the opportunity to run down the connecting hallway with Mokuba, and grab the boy, opening a closet and stuffing him in there. "You. Stay. Do not come out, hold the phone." He pushed his cellphone into Mokuba's hands. "Cover the light, it's on silent, text only. Anzu's number is the first on speeddial, let her know where you are when she gets here. Do not come out no matter what." He ordered, "Promise me!" He shook Mokuba's shoulder roughly, looking at his little brother's frightened face, but also into that steely determined gleam within his eye that was a shared trait between them. Mokuba said nothing, and Seto said: "Good."

And then he shut the door and made his way down the hall quietly. The gun clutched between both hands now, like an infiltrating officer would as he snuck around corners and down towards where he knew the library would be. He'd get up high, on a shelf, and make a stand from there. He pushed open the door and pushed it shut behind him, quiet and stealthy as he moved through the large library, barely giving the immense, catherdral ceilings and their spanning beams, their towering shelves, a glance. He moved for the ladder, and crawled up it, stopping mid way when he heard the door below open, and looked down. "Mokuba! What did I tell you!?" He cried out, and hurriedly got down the ladder, running over to grab his clearly scared brother. "I thought you had more sense than this!" He snapped, and felt Mokuba grabbing the front of his shirt, tugging on it. "What?"

"The thing. The thing." Mokuba stammered, his eyes dark in his head, eyes white and wide. "The thing in the window."

And Seto remembered it too. Even as a second ululating howl sounded, close to them and he shoved Mokuba at the ladder. "Climb! What is it?"

"A thing! It's big and has no eyes, and crawls around on all fo—SETO!" Halfway up the ladder, Mokuba let out a fearsome scream and pointed at the doors as they buckled from one solid blow and in crashed the monstrosity they'd caught a mere glimpse of. At the bottom of the ladder, Seto turned and began to climb fast, grabbing Mokuba from his spot to clamber up and rip books off a high shelf, giving them space to cram into the deep pockets. Seto leaned back and braced himself, lashing out with a strong kick that splintered the ladder, and then a second to crack it farther. At the floor level, the monster curled its way to the ladder and put a large clawed foot up on it as if to test it. Seto aimed a third kick, and the ladder split and fell away to the floor below them. They were stranded at the eighth or ninth shelf up, and the beast at the bottom. It twisted and twined and groaned at them, and Seto finally got a good look at the creature that seemed to come from the depths of Hell.

It had no eyes, the front of its maw was flat, and the bottom heavily curved up, the lipless mouth studded with intertwined teeth. When it opened its mouth, it had a gullet like a pelican, and the low groan-roar it let out sounded like it was in pain, or at the least—starving. It walked on all fours, in slow motions like a komodo dragon, or in fast ones like some ravenous lion, bounding and shaking its head in intimidation. It was a mottled grey and green, scaled all through and through, save for the mane of feather-like fur that ruffled and stuck up like a bird, lining it's throat and chest as well. The tail was thick at the base, and powerful like a crocodiles. It ripped through one of the smaller bookshelves at floor level, destroying it in seconds. All the claws were what worried Seto though—there were ten in total, on feet that looked far too much like human hands. An opposable thumb, perhaps there was one—Seto couldn't see from where he was. All he could assume was that the beast was, apparently, not a climber despite the clear ability to. It kept circling in agitation, looking up with its eyeless face, sniffing with large nostrils.

"Seto, what is it?"

"Shh!" Seto said and clapped a hand over Mokuba's mouth, as the monster's head tilted slightly, as if listening intently for their noises. He turned to look at his brother and shook his head, mouthing his words; _I don't know. I don't know_. His lack of knowledge did nothing to quell either of their worries, and Seto drew his long legs back into the crevasse of the bookshelf and peered over the edge. Mokuba's hands fell onto the back of his shirt, across his shoulders, digging in as if desperate not to let him fall. The blue-eyed young man watched the beast below, studying it with a horrified fascination that he knew he ought not to have. It circled and paced, whining lowly and pitifully. "Do you think he brought it with him?" Mokuba's mouth was close to his ear so that he did not have to make much noise to get his question to his brother.

Seto shook his head no. Then yes, then he shrugged a shoulder indicating that once again, he did not understand what was going on. Just that they had no way of getting down. His fingers curled along the edge of the bookshelf, keeping as much of him level on the shelf as he watched the circling, prancing beast as it seemed to chase its tail. Somewhere down the hall, he could hear the phone ringing. "Seto…" Mokuba was once again draped over his ear. "… what's going to happen when Anzu gets here, and that thing's still around?" Something within the elder of the siblings went cold at that, his ears picking up on the ghostly wails below him and eyeing the interlocked teeth. Anzu. Anzu. Anzu. She and god knew however many other people were coming, for Seto and Mokuba. Straight into a trap of monstrous proportions.

"Mokuba, give me the phone." He demanded firmly, though his voice shook with the strain of urgency. He rolled back onto the shelf fully, and looked at the top of it, Mokuba huddled just beyond the crown of his head. Anzu's voicemail picked up; "Don't come." He whispered into it, "Anzu, please. Don't come for us. Don't bring anybody, don't let anybody come. Just… stay away-- stay where it's safe."

And then something below him spintered. Mokuba screamed, he was looking over the side, and Seto rolled slightly. As soon as he did, he found himself staring into the cavernous maw of the beast, its clawed grip dug into the bookshelf. It could climb, and Seto swore loudly, repeatedly, shoving Mokuba back as he scrambled back across the slim bookshelf and covered his little brother with his body, shielding him as the beast rumbled, opening the snaggle-toothed jaw to roar deeply and splatter the pair with its wet saliva. Seto's hand was still closed on that gun, from where he'd stowed it in the back of his jeans, and he brought it up and fired at the thing's throat, hoping it was unprotected. With luck, he found it was, and the beast let out a wail and shrank back from the bookshelf. Then, it grew pissed. It's clawed grip swiped across one shelf, scattering books and slicing into the wood. Mokuba screamed again, a low, hoarse note of denial as his brother looked on with wide-eyed horror. Lower still, it swiped, and Seto's heart was in his throat, desperate to breathe steady.

There was only one route down, and he grabbed Mokuba and dragged him onto his back, as the swiping, eviscerating claws narrowly missed them as he fired his last bullet into the thing's throat. "Hold on!" He commanded, and moved out from the shelf, putting his foot down on the next shelf down. His fingers ached, his arm stung as he lowered them down, and the beast went haywire mere feet to their side. Its tail thrashed, and Seto felt Mokuba's arms tighten across his own neck. He winced, but at least Mokuba was listening, he began to scale down, as the beast beat upon the upper shelves, trying to find them. The last few shelves down, he let go, and landed on his front, Mokuba on his back. His brother scrambled off, grabbing his hand in desperation trying to get him to get up and run again, and run faster than ever before. He scrambled to his feet, ditching the gun to the side and grabbed Mokuba's hand. "We can't stay inside, Seto! We can't stay inside!" Mokuba cried as they threaded out of the library, leaving the howling, furious creature behind them. Seto nodded, but said nothing else, conserving his energy for the run. He made it to the front door, skidding to a stop in their lobby to check around for their other pursuer and threw open the front doors. Mokuba ran out, and stopped when he heard the muffled cry from his brother. He turned, and saw Seto looking out at him with a puzzled expression.

His hands were pressed flat against the open doorway, ripples of something invisible containing him inside. He beat on it, to no avail, the clear substance merely absorbed the blows and continued to keep Seto within. "Why can't I get out?" He asked, his eyes pitifully like a child's as he touched the doorway forlornly.

"_I own something of yours_." The voice whispered in his ear. His signature? Was that some sort of reason for why he couldn't get out? Seto could hardly believe it, to keep him in like that—it'd have to be some sort of magic. Magic, was something he did not believe in. "Mokuba, go." He ordered, and when his brother shook his wildly touseled head he growled out at him: "I said **GO.**" He snapped, pounding one fist against that which contained him. "I'm going to try and find another way out, but I need you to go find Anzu. Hell, go find Yugi! Yugi will know what to do, he's got far more experience than I ever did with this sort of… thing. Reality. Magic, if you have to call it." Seto looked weary, and crouched down low as Mokuba came meandering back. "I don't want you to stay here. I have a better chance of staying alive until you can find help, if you're not on my mind. If I don't know you're safe… Mokuba, I can't focus on avoiding these two. So go. Go now and don't look back, no matter what."

"But Seto! We're always together! You promised me." Mokuba said futily, "You promised we'd never leave each other. We're all we've got. Seto, don't." His brother was already pulling back, grabbing the doors. Mokuba lunged for him, but Seto caught him in mid lunge, catching his arm between the double doors and pinned him there. "Go, Mokuba." He said, flashing his fearsomely determined eyes. "Remember, I'm a Kaiba. We're made of tougher stuff than that." And he released pressure on the door, to shove Mokuba's hand out and slammed the doors in his face, locking them securely behind him as he sagged against the doors and cradled his face in his hands.

"I have to get that hat." He looked up between his fingers with a steely gaze, and pressed off the doorway, heading for the upstairs. He moved quietly, slipping low to the curved stair as he crawled up them, silently darting onto the landing, looking around carefully. The beast had stopped making noise, and that worried him even more than the killer he knew was lurking around. He moved swiftly down the hallway, pressing against the wall as he neared doorways, carefully slipping across them. Who knew where either of them were? Seto knew where he had to get to though. He moved into the game room, where just earlier, Mokuba had been frantically surviving a zombie invasion on his game. Now, his screen was just flickering. 'Game over? Retry?'

Refresh it. Bring it all back. Seto moved across the room quietly, practically on tiptoes as he moved into a joined hallway. He had to get to the rooms in the back, the safe room especially. There was a gun cabinet there. The keys were in his office, so, he had to stop there first, along the way. He paused by the door, peering around the corner before he crept in, slower than before and closed the door slightly. His office was a catastrophe, his desk had been thrown aside, laying semi-splintered against the long row of filing cabinets, some drawers opened and papers fluttering about the room. The window had been opened, and Seto had a guess that the giant bay windows has been how "Kuro" had let the beast inside his house as quietly as it had come after them.

He moved to his desk, opening drawers and rummaging through the paperwork to find the key ring, shoving aside pens and pencils and hooking his fingers into the secret little compartment that held few, very important artifacts of his work. Mainly, the key ring. He lifted it, and stared in disbelief. There was a ring where dust that had settled had not touched, and the keys were gone. Not there. Missing. _Did he take them?_ Seto wondered, his heart leaping into his chest as he looked around a little more. He moved across to the couch, dipping his hands between the cushions to see if they'd been flung anywhere. Anything he could do to figure out if the killer had them, or if they'd just been moved, misplaced or flung somewhere. He heard, down the hall, the creak of a door and he froze, whipping around from his spot, half-knelt on the couch. The door to his office was still as he left it, too small of an opening for a person to slip through, but ajar enough for him to yank open and run if need be.

"Aren't you just the loveliest?"

Seto whipped back around, facing forwards. The couch, the wall. Nothing there. He could have sworn he heard the voice from there.

"Looking for something are we?"

A phantom touch, ghosting along his waist. He whipped around again, his fist balled in a desperate bid to lash out against his unseen pursuer. Nothing again.

"Seto, are you looking for me that hard?"

"Where are you?!" He demanded, stepping back from the couch as another finger of dread stroked down his back. "Kuro! Or… Daisuke! Or whatever-the-hell your name is! What have done with my keys?"

And then hands, all over him. He could feel the invisible presence of too many hands, too many for any human, grasping his wrists, holding his hips, there were fingers stroking down his throat, mapping over his chest. With a low, disgusted cry of shock, he convulsed and twisted from the invisible presence, tearing himself—somehow from the hands. He ran from the room. _Sick freak. Sick freak_. He thought sharply, rubbing his body as if trying to eliminate an ugly stain, trying to get the crawling feeling of hands and fingers from him. He made his way to his original target, the safe room, and moved in fast. Too fast. Too fast to notice the blur of the knife before it bit into his shoulder, right below his collarbone. He threw his head back and screamed, throwing himself back. The blade slid from his shoulder wetly, and he hit the wall within the room, moving aside as he tried to locate his attacker. His fingers closed over the wound, holding it tight to stop the bleeding. No artery, no vein—nothing was hurt or nicked, but he still oriented his eyes upon the man in the pizza uniform. Waiting for him. Waiting all along.

He held the signed hat in one hand and the blood-painted knife in the other, a calm and complacent expression on his dark-eyed face. Kuro lifted the knife, and wiped the blood across the brim of the hat where Seto had given him his signature. "Further and further you fall down the hole, Alice." He tsked and shook his head. "Three is a holy number you know. The Father, Son and the Holy God. The number three denotes divine perfection, you know. The Unity of Body, Mind and Spirit. Two of which, Seto, you've already given me." He twirled the hat along on his finger: "I have your Mind. Given through your signature. The symbol of your class, your standards. Everything you lived for. The battles, the duels, the wars. A signature is your crest, your mark upon the world, you perfect it, you indulge in the strokes across the material. It is a completely conscious decision to sign something. And through that, I now claim your mind. Your Body, I regret I had to take by force… This blood of yours. How beautiful a red stained bride you make."

Seto, still holding his wounded shoulder, leaned against a nearby table, looking utterly digusted with the man before him. Kuro, nonplussed, went on: "Blood is life, and is shed both willingly and unwillingly. It thrives in your body, and keeps life moving within that shell of yours. I now own your Body and your Mind, all that is left is to take your Spirit, Seto. And then I shall have all of you."

"What are you?" Seto asked incredulously, "What is—what are you talking about? You can't **own** me through blood and ink!"

"Do you know, Seto, what the Threefold Nature of Temptation is?"

"Another three?"

"I like the number three." Kuro added briskly, smiling ever so gently towards the young man. "The nature of temptation is thus…"

The wall behind Kuro splintered, and through the gaping destruction landed the four-legged beast as it writhed and spun about. Seto heaved a gasp, crushing himself against the corner of the room as it fixated its eyeless gaze upon him. Kuro was not scared at all, and continued on, holding the hat and the knife reverently. Like one would a religious artifact. "… the lust of the flesh." He looked up, and Seto knew he shouldn't have met those eyes. But he did, and his breath caught in his throat. Without taking a step, the killer seemed to move towards him, and he felt his hand, pressed against his thigh, hot and heavy, and Seto's jaw shook, trying to shake his head. But the invisible grip was back, cosseting the insides of his arms, forcibly slamming him back upon the table, holding him there, as if the table were clutching him to its flat surface. Kuro loomed over him with an almost apologetic look as the multi-armed force began anew its quest to feel Seto up. His eyes screamed 'no', but he couldn't shake his head. And subsequently, Kuro continued.

"The pride of life. Which… I doubt you've failed to instill into your heart and soul, Seto. How proud you have been over these years I've waited and watched. You have marinated in temptation, so much so that even I was hard-pressed to wait. I wanted you. For my collection."

"Collection! You sick freak!" Seto finally snapped out, sitting up sharply, while the hands gripped his shirt and shoulders. He yelled in pain as fingers dug into the wound in his shoulder, and forced him back down, prone upon the table's surface. KuroIsamuDaisuke, the knife in his hand, leaned forwards and ran the flat of the blade along Seto's cheek. "And the third is my favorite, Seto. It's the lust of the eyes. And you…" The tip of the blade sat poised, pricking the soft flesh just below Seto's right eye, while he stared at the shimmering, bloodied length in honest fear. "Have the most beautiful eyes I have seen yet. Whore's eyes." Seto's rage was kept at bay, only by his fear, his mouth thinned into an angry line. "The kind of eyes people want to see drugged, clouded, beaten down. Looking at them wantonly, wanting to belong, wanting to be loved. Oh, don't you worry… I will do as my solemn duty declares. And I shall love you fondly, Seto."

"Get… off me." Seto whispered hoarsely, as the tip of the knife left the vicinity of his eye. Kuro tsked again, forlornly, and raised the knife over Seto's sternum. "I lay claim to your spirit now." He uttered, and the knife fell in slow motion. Midway through the descent, it wobbled and wavered and Kuro fell away, thrown from Seto's body by a small force that would not be ignored. With his aim broken, Seto felt the invisible hands fall away from him, and though his clothes were ripped by the equally invisible, yet sharp nails, he sat up and held his shoulder.

Mokuba scrambled back off the killer. "Run Seto! Run!" He ordered, and darted forwards, even as the killer grabbed at his ankle and brought him down to the ground. Seto, instead of running, felt the adrenaline kick in and he lunged for Kuro and Mokuba, grabbing the older man's arm before he could slice into Mokuba's body with the knife. For once, the killer looked far from calm. He looked furious. "Grab the hat! Mokuba! Grab the hat!" Seto ordered, before he felt the tug and was thrown, single handedly to the ground by the unbearably strong assailant. He saw Mokuba grab the hat, and heard the scramble of claws as Kuro snapped out an order to the beast.

"Deimos! Bring him to me! Bring me the little Kaiba! Alive!" He called out, as the beast whipped by Seto, slamming through the small doorway as it thundered off after Mokuba. "Burn it! Mokuba! Burn it!" Seto called after him, "No! Hide! Get away!" He yelled, and rolled onto his side, trying to get up and away from Kuro as the man's attentions returned to his wounded prize. Seto turned to look over his shoulder, and let out a strangled scream as he felt the heel of Kuro's shoe come down on his shoulder, pinning him to the ground.

"I can still finish this." He said softly, reaching down to stroke Seto's cheek with the back of his hand. That obscenely powerful grip took the back of his neck, and hauled him to his feet, dragging him through the wreckage left by the beast—the Deimos—as it chased down his little brother. Seto panted hard, worrying and panicking in his own quiet way over the fate of his brother, even when he should have been worrying about his own fate. Through the game room they went—another two doorways, broken apart and left in ruins. To the stairs, and at the bottom, the beast waited, pinned under its foot was Mokuba. To his far right, the living room. Inside the living room, Kuro's hat—Seto's signature and his blood—was burning. Kuro let out a muted, strangled noise and lashed out. He threw Seto, headlong, to the stairs below, and sent the elder Kaiba head over heels down the stairs, hearing the crack of something as he rolled to a stop at the bottom. Seto sat up, still conscious, and moved towards the looming beast, half-crawling and half-trying to get to his feet. His eye was tightly closed, and he winced when he went to talk. It must have been his cheek, or his eye socket. Something in his face had broken. "Let him go." He gritted out through one half of his mouth, it hurt too much to open it all the way. "You don't have anything of me now." He declared, turning to look at the uniformed man as he came slowly, regally down the stairs.

"You destroyed it." Kuro addressed Mokuba, looking at the boy with contempt. "You're not even who I wanted. You're nothing to me. Seto—his beauty, his fragile little mortal life is everything. Why, little Kaiba, must you come between us?" He snapped his fingers, and the large hand-paw of the Deimos convulsed, lifting Mokuba from the ground even as Seto bellowed out for Kuro not to **DARE** hurt him! Seto moved up, standing and stepping forwards, and with a crash the paw that had been holding Mokuba (and delivered him right before Kuro) pinned the brunette to the ground firmly, dragging him back towards the beast. Mokuba, aching as well, and scared beyond belief, sat before Kuro, shaking and glaring and putting on a fearsome show of bravery. Acutely, Seto was able to hear the sirens coming down the street. "Anzu, don't come…" He whispered, turning his head to look in the direction of the doorway.

"Body, Mind and Spirit. Is that all too much to ask for?" Kuro was still speaking to Mokuba. "That's all I want from your brother."

"That's everything." Mokuba replied, looking up at the killer. "You can't have everything that makes him Seto. You're not allowed."

"Not… allowed?"

"Because I'll always own part of him. Part of his heart. And all of our friends hold a piece of him too. We made a pact on it. You can't own all of him, Kuro. Not when so many already own pieces of him. Ones that he gave freely, and of his own will." Mokuba sneered, grinning his little grin that he shared with his brother. Seto looked on with a sort of horror. "So, what are you going to do Kuro?"

The killer seemed at a loss, looking from Mokuba, to Seto, and back to the Deimos, to his own two hands. "He's… not all there?"

"No. I own part of him. So do all our friends! Bakura does! Anzu does!" He declared proudly, taking a stand against the shriking killer. "So you see, Kuro—you just can't have him."

"You own part of him? Freely? Of his own will?" Kuro asked, looking at Mokuba with eyes that had become red-rimmed. No tears fell, and a faintly sick curiosity had taken a hold in the killer's eyes.

Mokuba was oblivious, even as Seto opened his mouth to scream at him. "I do. He's my brother after all."

"Mokuba, no!" Seto had understood, even as Kuro had quailed back, that it was all an act. Even as his nails broke on the carpet, and he tried to drag himself from underneath the Deimos' claws, he saw the wink of the blade far before his innocent brother did. His hearing went silent, there was no sound in the house as he watched Kuro abruptly and purposefully slice a gaping wound… straight through his little brother's throat.

He could feel his throat scratching with his screaming, and felt the slide of a claw nick his hip as he ripped himself out from underneath the Deimos and ran towards his fallen brother, collapsing over the top of him, putting his hands to his throat as he tried to stop the bleeding. He tore off strips of his shirt, binding up his brother's neck, putting pressure where he could, yelling at him not to do it, don't give in.

"Don't you go anywhere! Don't you leave me!" He commanded without the results he wanted. He mirrored his brother, the way he'd caught his arm was now where Seto was. The vice-like grip on his wrist pulled him back and off Mokuba's body, and he screamed again, twisting like a cobra as he tried to break Kuro. Maim him! Rip his throat out! "You bastard! Bastard!" Seto snarled at him viciously, twisting about like some insane dancer, even as the bones in his wrist cracked and threatened to give way. There was a certain pleasure in Kuro's eyes as he watched the madness in Seto's own eyes, and the way the younger man's body then moved against his… he wanted to stroke that body… And then there was a searing pain about his forehead as Kaiba Seto's head crashed against his own and knocked him for a loop. He'd just been headbutted! By the lighter framed male! Kuro stumbled back, and that was all the time it took for Seto to slam into him again. He dropped his wounded shoulder and caught Kuro about the waist. For mere seconds. He was thrown off, and landed, sliding slightly backwards with a harsh 'oof' that forced all the air out of his lungs. Mokuba was besides him, and Seto rolled over and reached out to palm his torn neck, trying to pump life back into him again.

"Your friends… own parts of you. Given of your own free will. Well. I suppose if they're all dead, Seto, they don't own that anymore. The dead don't get possessions." Kuro said, as if it were completely logical. At his feet, the brunette was lifting his dark-haired brother into his arms, cradling him close in disbelief.

"… you weren't supposed to be here…" He whispered brokenly, voice clogged with unshed tears. "… you were supposed to run away… you were supposed to be safe, Mokuba…" Seto shook his head, knowing… without a doubt, that the killer was lingering right behind him. Patient, silent. The wail of the police sirens was just beyond his front door, and Seto knew even if he could get past the Deimos as it flexed and prepared to stop him if need be, that he wouldn't make it to the front door.

Ten.

"Starting with him, Seto, a new age is dawning."

Nine.

Seto shook his head, pressing his lips to Mokuba's forehead, his hands… covered in his brother's own blood.

Eight.

"I am a patient man. However many "friends" you have, I'll find them. I'll hunt them all down and bring each piece of you they hold back. Then… I will make you entirely mine. Like my German, my American… and **her**."

Seven.

Mazaki Nami. Her name reminded him. Anzu. He needed… Anzu.

Six.

Below Mokuba's body, in his brother's blood even as it dried on Seto's fingers, he wrote the words he needed to say to Anzu.

Five.

_Isamu Daisuke. Kuro. Occult. Save me._

Four.

His back felt cold, even though the touch upon it was warm. The knife lowered across his vision and he laid Mokuba down gently as he felt it, lain across his throat, his hair—fisted in a hand, wrenched back to look up at the dark eyed face of the killer. "Kuro…" Seto said, "You don't know my friends very well."

Three.

"I don't care, Seto… They all die the same." The serial murderer leaned down, and caught Seto's lower lip in a fond farewell kiss. "When you wake… it'll be a new eve. They won't be able to save you, and in the prison I create… you'll stay. Until I have them all to lay at your feet, and then you will submit to me and my game will be won."

Two.

"Kuro."

One.

"I don't play little kid games anymore." He sneered, flicking a cigarette from his pocket to his mouth, lighting it off with a touch of the lighter. nd the wet slide of the blade splattered his own blood over his brother, opening his throat as well as blood welled up over his lips. The cigarette dropped from his lips and fizzled out in his and his brother's own blood, and the lighter dropped as well. And Seto collapsed over his little brother, cradling him as he bled across the floor. He lifted his eyes, slowly, and barely could feel the grip on his ankle as he was pulled from Mokuba, and left no trail—to his despair—behind. The front doors burst open, and he could see her. Anzu. Barely hear her scream of distress as she saw Mokuba, and his world was enveloped in shadow, as Kuro took him far, far away from the world he'd known. And then…

_Game over_.

**Notes**: Yes, this is a revamped and… rather long version of YLTD. I was not satisfied with my hiatus, nor on how little plot I actually had together for this story, so I spent my time redoing it. I hope it's still as enjoyable to you that have read it, and I hope this time I can keep up well enough on it to your liking.


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